The Unfinished Epic
by Clever Lass
Summary: Spike hangs out around a campfire with the Scooby Gang, and tells them a story without an ending. Oneshot.


_This was a challenge fic I wrote a long time ago under a different name, as an entrance exam to the BFWS group at yahoogroups. The challenge was as follows:_

_Write a short BTVS story (500 words or less) to include the following:_

_A kiss  
Blood  
Fire  
An Englishman  
A legend  
A pen_

_Use whatever definitions of these words you want to; i.e. a legend could be a story, a person, a caption or a directory on a map. Be unique!_

_…and here is my response to the challenge. It takes place sometime during season 5._

* * *

**The Unfinished Epic**

****

"...And her friends never saw her again," Willow finished telling "The Legend of Breaker's Woods" in a hushed voice, her auburn hair dark in the flickering firelight.

There was an instant of quiet, before the howls of laughter came.

"Sorry, Will, but you gotta do better than that!" Xander told her, snickering. "I'm a native of Sunnydale too, and even I know that it was just the girl's dog!"

"Yeah, I hate to say it, but for people who battle the forces of evil every day, Willow, your story was just a little bit -- " Dawn said.

"Lame," finished Anya decisively.

"I was going to go with 'un-scary,' but 'lame' covers it too," Dawn replied.

Where once Willow would have blushed and withdrawn from her group of friends, now she tossed her hair back and smiled. "I know that. I thought we could use a little of the lighter touch."

"Touché," Dawn said, pleased with the pun. "Okay, who's next?"

"I've got one," Spike volunteered, to everyone's surprise. No one was quite sure how to deal with him now; his souled status and occasional insanity made the others a little nervous, especially when Buffy wasn't around. They expected her back from patrolling soon, but she wasn't there yet.

"Oh, oh, Spike's got a story. Okay, this should be good," Willow encouraged.

He rolled his eyes, sat up from where he'd been reclining in the darkness, and began. "There was this Englishman, a total pansy. Bookish. Sorta Gilesey, if you get my drift. Twenty-four years old, never been kissed, never even had a bird look twice at him. No friends. He fell in love with the wrong girl, and she very rightly rejected him. Broke his heart! He was desperate. He sold his soul to the devil that night, signed his name in blood and everything, just to get one kiss from his lady.

"Well, it seems the devil took a fancy to him and decided to take him out on the town. He got his kiss from his lady, all right. Last thing she ever did. Our mini-Giles at this point was feeling pretty good. Nothing pansy about him now, bein' best friends with the devil and all. Still felt like he wanted more, though, so he ended up burning her house to ashes. Made him feel a little better.

"Our hero went on like that for a long time, not knowing that someday there was going to be a reckoning. People who sell their souls to the devil — well, someday the devil gets his due. Well, our boy finally got his. What was his punishment? Going back to the beginning. People hate him, the girl he loves can't stand him and very rightly rejects him. It's the same as it was before only worse this time, because he wouldn't even sell his soul to get a kiss from the lady. Knows it's too late to be forgiven, too late to make amends, too late to protect the girl. He spends the rest of his life trying to, though, even when he knows it's useless."

Spike stopped talking and sat quietly, staring into the fire.

"That's... quite the epic, Spike," Dawn commented softly.

Xander, eyebrows furrowed in thought, spoke. "That's it? That's the end of the story? That's a pretty sucky place to leave it." Willow whacked him on the leg. "What?"

Spike looked up. "Couldn't agree more. How do you think it should end, Harris?"

"Well, there should be a choice or something, some way for the guy to get a chance to prove himself. I don't know, maybe the girl should give him another chance. And so should those people who hate him. I mean, you can't change the past, can you? I think the poor guy ought to get _some_ credit for trying... and who knows? Maybe it's not useless after all."

Willow squeezed Xander's hand. "I like that ending, Xand."

"Yes," said Anya judiciously. "It shows the quality of mercy, rather than the harshness of naked justice."

Dawn smiled at Spike. "I think you should use Xander's ending, Spike," she said.

Xander looked around, pleased. "Yeah, Spike, you should use that ending. It's a lot better than that hopeless one that you spouted off."

Spike snorted and shook his head. "It's not exactly up to me, Harris. It's up to you lot to write the ending."

Xander looked around the circle with dawning insight -- Spike had been telling his own story! And he, Xander, had recommended that the subject of the story be given another chance. Trapped by his own words, he shrugged and ducked his head. "Anyone got a pen?"

"Here, I've got one," said Buffy as she approached the impromptu camp-out. "What are we writing?"

End


End file.
